Clara grabbed Lyra's arm.
"Don't move."
Lyra stared toward the trees.
A second branch snapped.
Closer this time.
"Who is that?" she whispered.
"I don't know."
"Great."
Clara shot her a look.
"Can you be serious for once?"
"I am serious."
Another sound came from outside.
Footsteps.
Slow and uneven against the damp ground.
Lyra's eyes moved to the open back door.
The muddy footprints were still visible on the floor.
Someone had come through there.
Recently.
"Clara," Lyra whispered, "where's the nearest place we can go?"
"The village."
"How far?"
"Twenty minutes. Maybe less if we run."
Lyra looked back toward the trees.
"Then let's go."
They didn't wait to see who was outside.
Clara grabbed her coat, and Lyra shoved the photograph into her bag before following her through the front door.
The road outside was empty.
Too empty.
They began walking quickly.
Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes.
Lyra kept looking over her shoulder.
"Do you think they're following us?"
"Please stop asking questions I don't know the answer to."
"Sorry."
Clara glanced at her.
"You don't sound sorry."
"I'm a little sorry."
Clara would have laughed if she hadn't looked so frightened.
They reached the narrow road leading back toward the village.
That's when Lyra stopped.
"Wait."
Clara turned.
"What?"
Lyra looked at the sky.
The afternoon had darkened faster than she expected.
Heavy clouds were gathering above the trees.
"How long until sunset?"
Clara's expression changed.
"Why?"
Lyra pulled the note from her pocket.
Take her to the Hollow before nightfall.
Clara stared at it.
"Oh."
"Exactly."
For the first time since leaving the cottage, Lyra felt something colder than fear settle inside her.
The note hadn't said bring her home.
It had said take her to the Hollow.
As if the Hollow itself was where Lyra was supposed to be.
"Maybe Mum was trying to protect you," Clara said.
"From what?"
"I don't know."
"That's becoming a theme."
Clara folded her arms.
"Do you want to complain about it now, or do you want to get moving?"
Lyra held up her hands.
"Moving."
They continued down the road.
A few minutes later, Lyra heard footsteps behind them.
She stopped again.
Clara nearly collided with her.
"Lyra—"
"Shh."
The footsteps stopped.
Both girls turned.
The road behind them was empty.
Clara's face tightened.
"Run."
They ran.
Lyra didn't ask questions this time.
The road blurred beneath her feet as the trees rushed past on either side. Clara was ahead of her, clutching her bag as they pushed toward the village.
Then someone stepped onto the road.
Lyra stopped so suddenly she almost fell.
Rowan.
He stood several feet ahead of them.
"Where have you two been?"
Clara bent over, trying to catch her breath.
Lyra stared at him.
For some reason, the warning came back immediately.
Don't trust him.
Rowan frowned.
"What happened?"
Lyra didn't answer.
His eyes moved between them.
"Lyra?"
"We went to Clara's mother's house."
Rowan's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Lyra saw it.
"You did what?"
Clara straightened.
"Why do you care?"
Rowan looked at her.
"You shouldn't have gone there."
Lyra felt her stomach drop.
"How do you know where she lives?"
Silence.
Rowan's face hardened.
"Everyone knows where she lives."
"Not everyone," Clara said quietly. "She left this village years ago."
Rowan looked away.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Lyra reached into her bag.
She pulled out the photograph.
Rowan's eyes widened when he saw it.
"You found that?"
Lyra stared at him.
"You know this photograph?"
He didn't answer.
"Rowan."
He took a step closer.
"Put it away."
"Why?"
"Because you don't understand what you're holding."
Lyra laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Of course I don't. Nobody tells me anything."
"Then stop looking."
The words came out sharper than she'd expected.
Clara went still.
Lyra stared at Rowan.
"What did you say?"
He seemed to realize what he'd said.
His expression softened.
"I mean... you're putting yourself in danger."
"By asking questions?"
"Yes."
Lyra stepped closer.
"Or by finding answers?"
Rowan looked past her.
Toward the road they had come from.
His face suddenly changed.
"Get back to the Hollow."
Lyra's heart began to race.
"Why?"
"Now."
"Rowan—"
"Lyra!"
She froze.
She had never heard him raise his voice before.
The trees behind them moved.
Not with the wind.
Something was walking through them.
Slowly.
Rowan grabbed Lyra's hand.
"We don't have time."
Lyra pulled away.
"Don't touch me."
His eyes flashed with frustration.
"Fine. But start running."
Clara looked at Lyra.
"What do we do?"
Lyra looked toward the woods.
Then toward the distant road leading back to the Hollow.
The note.
The warning.
Take her to the Hollow before nightfall.
She hated that she was about to do exactly what someone had told her to do.
But whatever was in those woods was getting closer.
"Run," she said.
And this time, all three of them ran.
Behind them, something crashed through the trees.
And somewhere in the distance—from the direction of the Hollow—a bell began to ring.